Oh no. Mom's home. I can hear her car door's muffled slam in the garage. I have to find a hiding place. Upstairs? Too easy. Oh, I just don't know. I can tell when she's had a bad day,and this is one of them. Bad days for her mean that no one else can have a good day. She slams things around and the sound of her hurts our ears. I take my little sister, Katie, upstairs with me. I grab her homework so maybe we can make her happy by finishing it. "Erin, go get the MAIL!" she screams. "Okay." I run out into the evening, nothing but pitch blackness in front of me. It's freezing, and I'm in a T-shirt and jeans, but oddly enough, the cold isn't quite so cold anymore. It's just a welcome escape from what's inside that house. That house is so full of goo dtimes, but the bad ones make me want to just run, so far from that house, that I look like just a speck to it. I probably already do. I can't take this. I sit down on the grass, knees pulled close to my chest, and cry. No one is outside in this blackness, and I'm glad. I just want this night to envelop me and take me away with it. The cold to wrap it's long, tendrils around my being. Mom must have saught on that I was outside. "You're gonna get a cold out here! Get inside!" she said. "Okay." I don't say much of anything on bad days. But don't judge me or my family on our bad days. Because you have them. Everyone does. And I know, that they are cold.